Sick Day
by Avarici
Summary: Helga was having a bad day to begin with, but she somehow knew it would only get worse.
1. Helga's Stomachache

Staring at her white tennis shoes as they dragged along the linoleum floor Helga knew she was going to spend the rest of the day in the nurses office. She suddenly began running down the hall making it to a toilet just in time to deposit the contents of her stomach within. There wasn't much. Most of her half-digested breakfast was still on Mr. Simmons' floor. Helga flushed the toilet, rinsed out her mouth and continued her journey to the office. She walked in and stared at the school's secretary.

"Mr. Simmons already called." Ms. Jensen pointed her thumb at the small enclosure that served as the infirmary. "Nurse Shelley isn't here today, so just go have a lie down over there and I'll call your parents. Name?"

"Helga Pataki." She was too exhausted to mutter "good luck with that" so she just curled up on the uncomfortable bed. She knew Miriam wouldn't answer, and Bob would proclaim that he was at work and demand they call his wife. So with no one else to call Helga would spend the rest of the day at school.

She was doing her best to hold back tears, today had been terrible. She had gotten to school late and for some reason everyone was out to get her today. Even Arnold. They had been fighting when she felt the nausea overtake her. It was all she could do to keep herself from throwing up on his shoes. And of course Harold, Stinky, and Sid, who thought any bodily function was hilarious, had started making fun of her.

She sighed. Arnold was still her number one source of frustration in life. She was still madly in love with him, and he said he loved her back, but they fought constantly. He was mad that she was still picking on him in front of the other kids. He was mad that she wasn't being true to herself, and today he'd had enough. The next chance he got he was going to break up with her. She knew it.

Ms. Jensen walked back over looking extremely annoyed. "No one is answering at your house and your dad can't get you. Is there _anyone_ else we can call?" Helga shook her head and curled up into a ball. Ms. Jensen sighed.

"No one at all?"

"Can't I just take the bus home."

"We can't let you leave the school without being signed out by an adult." She shook her head. "I'll just keep trying until someone picks up the phone. The _one day_ Principal Wartz isn't here." She stormed off waving her hands in the air frantically. Helga was staring at the wall, trying to find something interesting to fixate on for the next 4 hours, when something Arnold's mother had said popped into her head.

_"And if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to call."_

She knew it was only a pleasantry adults said to make themselves feel better, but somehow coming from Stella it seemed different. She got up and poked her head out of the small room.

"I just thought of someone." Ms. Jensen waved her hand in the direction of the other phone while chatting away on hers.

"Just remember to push nine first. No, no, not you Gina, so like I was saying–"

Helga nervously picked up the phone and dialed the number she knew better than her own. It rang four times before someone picked it up.

"Hello?" A woman answered.

"Hello. Is . . . is this Arnold's mom?"

She giggled. "Yes. Who is this?"

"It's me Helga I'm Arnold's–"

"Helga? What's wrong? Did something happen to Arnold? Do I–"

"Arnold's fine."

"Oh. Well then why are you calling?"

"Well . . ." suddenly nervous she began tugging on the phone cord, "I . . . you said if I ever needed anything . . . well, you probably didn't really _mean_ it . . . but . . ."

"Helga, what's wrong?"

She took a deep breath and spoke quickly. "Look, I'm sick and my dad can't come get me and my mom isn't answering the phone, and they won't let me leave unless someone signs so I was hoping that you could come check me out. It's okay if you can't, I know you're busy, and–"

"I'll be there in a few minutes. You just sit tight."

"Okay." She replaced the receiver and sat back down on the bed. She was still staring at her sneakers when Stella walked in.

"I'm here to pick up Helga Pataki." At the sound of the woman's voice she practically flew off the tiny cot. Helga resisted the urge to hug her. Stella signed a paper then knelt down in front of her.

"Is anyone at your house?"

"My mom's home she's just–" _too incapacitated to answer the phone, but I don't want you to know that. _"She . . . probably has a headache." Helga lied.

"Alright. Do you want me to drop you off at your house then?"

Helga nodded even though going home was just about as bad as staring at the wall for hours, at least she could be miserable in her own bed.

The kind woman placed her hand on Helga's shoulder and led her to the car.

All too soon they were at her stoop. She looked over at Arnold's mom who was smiling sweetly at her. If there was anyone in the world she loved as much as Arnold, it was Stella. She reluctantly got out of the car and marched up the steps. It wasn't until she turned the door knob that she discovered it was locked. She reached under the door mat only to find a slightly rusty key shaped stain where the spare key _should_ have been. With a sigh she rang the doorbell.

"Mom!" She called at the window. "Open the door!" She waited for what seemed an eternity then began pounding on the door. She was really getting mad. In fact she was so mad her head was swimming. "Crimeny! MIRIAM! OPEN THE STINKING DOOR!" With both fists clenched at her sides she forced back the angry tears that were threatening to escape her eyes. Her world was suddenly spinning and she glanced down at the ground just in time to see it fly up and hit her.


	2. Stella's Heartache

Stella's morning had been unusually quiet. Miles and most of the boarders were at work, Phil and Oscar were at a Chinese checkers tournament down at the park, and Gertie had gone off . . . somewhere. Stella had the house to herself and was waiting for a phone call from the local authorities, but she was surprised when she picked up the receiver and heard Helga's voice instead.

She had gotten to the school as quickly as she could. She didn't know Helga very well, but the mother and the doctor in her couldn't leave the poor sick girl stuck at school. She waited on the street while Helga walked up to her front door. Stella watched her yank on the door knob and search for a key before pounding on her own front door begging her mother to let her in.

She didn't know much about Helga's home life but from what Arnold had told her she'd gathered that it wasn't good. As she watched Helga shout up at the windows she sucked in a startled breath. She'd had no idea it was this _bad_. Stella got out of the car and was about to invite the poor thing back to the boarding house when she suddenly collapsed. She was at Helga's side in a second.

"Helga!" She scooped the ten year old into her embrace. "Helga! Can you hear me?" Her big blue eyes fluttered open and Stella breathed a sigh of relief. "Are you okay?"

"I don't feel good." She whispered. "I think I'm going to throw up again." She jerked away from Stella and did exactly that. Shaking her head at the ridiculousness of the entire situation Stella picked her up and carried her to the car.

"I think if I just lay down for a minute–"

"Helga, I'm taking you to my house to rest. When will your dad be home?" She asked as she fastened Helga's seat belt.

"Six? Seven maybe."

"Okay. I'll give him a call later." She was tempted to drive home as fast as she could, but she kept reminding herself that she was in a city, the boarding house wasn't far, and Helga would be fine. She had seen and treated much worse. However, she couldn't stop herself from glancing over at her pale passenger who was falling asleep against the window. Stella pulled up to the boarding house and helped Helga out of the car.

"I'm okay." She insisted weakly, steadying herself against the wall with her hand.

"Then you go curl up on the couch. I'll be right back." She hurried downstairs to the linen closet and grabbed a few blankets and a pillow. When she returned Helga was still sitting up, swaying slightly, and staring at the wall.

"Helga, you need you to lie down." She put a pillow on one end of the couch and gently pushed Helga onto it. As she covered her with the blankets Helga spoke.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"I should have just stayed at school." She put her hand on Helga's cheek and smiled.

"Nonsense. I'm going to give you some medicine and you'll start feeling better soon."

"I don't want to throw up on your floor." Her voice trembled as she spoke.

"I'll get a bucket. How does that sound?" She nodded and Stella headed for her arsenal of medications and thermometer. She took a deep breath. _Calm down Stella. I'm sure her parents have very good reasons for not going to get her. Her mother is probably running errands. I'll leave a message and she'll get over here as soon as she hears it._

"Helga I'm going to take your temperature." She helped Helga sit up, stuck the small device in her ear, and nearly swore at the readout. _103.7? Really! How the _hell_ does a fifth grader get this sick without someone noticing? Worse, no one seems to care. _She shook her head while giving Helga some children's Tylenol and was about to leave when Helga grabbed her arm.

"Please don't go."

"Okay." She said quietly as she sat down by the girl's feet. Helga immediately flipped around and rested her hot cheek on Stella's thigh. She fought back tears while stared down at the neglected little girl in her lap.

"Maybe we should take out your pigtails so you can rest better."

"Not the bow." She murmured as her eyes began to close.

"Not the bow." Stella repeated gently pulling out the elastic bands that held the girl's hair in place. It fanned out on her leg and Stella began absent mindedly running her fingers through the blond strands. It wasn't long before Helga drifted off. Once Stella was sure she was asleep she reached over and grabbed the pillow. She carefully slid it under Helga's head and stood up.

"You're a good mom." She suddenly mumbled. "I'm gonna miss you when . . . Arnold . . ." she heard a small sob and knelt down in front of the couch.

"When Arnold what?" She asked gently brushing Helga's hair away from her face.

"When he breaks up with me." Tears began streaming down her face onto the pillow beneath her head.

"He's not going to break up with you."

"He is! We were fighting. We always fight. And I'm too mean. He hates mean girls! He wants me to be nice all the time but he doesn't understand! He doesn't see, he doesn't – he can't – he –"

"Helga," Stella said in a soothing tone, "it's okay. Arnold loves you." She smiled at the memory of her son trying to explain his relationship with Helga. "He told me. And even if the two of you do break up, you can come visit me anytime. Okay?"

"Do you really mean that?"

"Even if Arnold told me he never wanted to see you again, which he won't, you are always welcome here." Helga nodded. "Now, close your eyes and get some rest." Stella walked into the kitchen, sat down at the table, and cried as quietly as she could.


	3. Arnold's Headache

Arnold rang the doorbell for the third time, then sighed heavily. _She's either really sick, or really mad. Probably both._ He sighed again. _I don't even remember what we were fighting about._ He'd gone to check on Helga, since she hadn't come back to class, but she was gone. Usually she just spent the rest of the day in the Nurses office whenever she was sick. e guessed someone someone had checked her out, but forgotten her backpack.

He stared down at the pink bag in his hand debating on whether he should just leave it in front of her door, or keep it. He threw it over his shoulder and began walking home. _If she's too sick to answer the door it'll stay outside all night. Neither of her parents would notice it, or care enough to bring it in._ He glanced up at the cloudless sky. _And with Helga's luck it would somehow manage to rain. I'll try to give it to her again tomorrow._

He thought about her the whole way home. He knew she loved him, he loved her back, maybe not with the same _intensity_ Helga felt, but he did love her. So he was left to wonder why things were so hard. _Why does she think she needs to be so mean to me? No one is stupid enough to make fun of her. They're too scared. _

He slowly pushed open his front door and walked straight to the kitchen. His mom was at the sink washing something.

"Hi mom." He sat down at the table, dropped the two bags beside him, and grabbed an apple from the bowl sitting in the center of it.

She cleared her throat. "How was school?" Her voice sounded weird. _Is she getting sick?_

"It was school. Are you okay?"

She sniffled. "I'm fine, Honey."

He stared down at the fruit in his hands. "Mom, I have a weird question."

"Let's hear it."

"Can you make someone sick? I mean, well," he sighed, "Helga and I were fighting again and she was fine, but then I said some pretty mean things, and then she just threw up all over the floor. I know sometimes you can get sick if your nervous or –" his next few words came out in a rush, "I went to her house to apologize and she wouldn't answer the door and I just –"

"Arnold." He stopped and looked up at his mother who had just turned around. "You didn't make Helga throw up. She's really sick. I gave her some medicine, but she'll probably need to stay home for a few more days, that is if I can ever get a hold of her mother." Arnold furrowed his eyebrows.

"When did you give her medicine?"

"After I went to the school to–"

"When were you at the school?" She tilted her head to the side and gave him her be-quiet-and-I-will-tell-you look. He took a bite of his apple.

"I went to the school at about 11:30 because she called me." She sat down at the table and rested her head in her hand. "Her dad couldn't come get her, and her mom wasn't answering the phone, _still_ isn't answering the phone. I took her home, but her house was locked up, and she couldn't find the key." She stopped when her voice cracked.

"Mom? Are you sure you're okay."

"I'm fine. I brought her here after she passed out in front of her house." He practically jumped out of his chair.

"Is she hurt?"

"No, just _really_ sick." He set his apple on the table.

"Where is she?"

"She's on the couch, you must have–" He turned and headed for the living room without waiting for her to finish her sentence, but came to an abrupt halt when she grabbed his arm. He glanced back at his mother who simply raised an eyebrow at him.

"I just want to see if she's okay. And apologize."

"She just went back to sleep about an hour ago." His mother turned slightly and took both his hands in hers. "She's really sick and needs to rest." As he stared into her eyes he noticed how red they were.

"Were you crying?"

"Yes, but I'm fine now."

"What happened?"

"Nothing for you to worry about." She sighed. "Arnold. I know it's none of my business, but are you going to break up with her?" He stared down at his shoes.

"Did she say that?"

"Yes." He looked back up into his mother's warm brown eyes.

"That's not what I said! I said . . . it's just . . . it's really hard because one minute she's sitting next to me telling me how she wants to go to Paris someday and the next minute she shoves me to the floor. I was really mad because I'm tired of her pretending all the time! It doesn't have to be this hard!"

"Arnold," Stella smiled and squeezed his hands. "Relationships aren't supposed to be easy. Your Dad and I still fight, even after all these years, but we still love each other."

"I just . . ."

"There is a lot about Helga that you don't understand and probably won't for a long time. But you can't fix her, or make her be someone she's not. Do you still love her?"

Arnold felt his face heat up under his mother's gaze and started at the floor. Trying to keep his embarrassment under control he swallowed hard before answering. "Yes."

His mom released one of his hands and tilted his face back up toward hers. "Then just love her." She smiled and brushed her thumb against his cheek. "You're good at that."

He stared at his mother wondering how she could know so much about relationships and a girl she had only met once before.

"Promise me you won't wake her up."

"I promise."

She released him and he tiptoed into the living room. There was a pile of blankets on the couch with a few strands of yellow hair sticking out from underneath. He walked over quietly and was startled when she suddenly rolled over. He froze in place. _Please don't wake up!_ To his dismay one of her eyes opened.

"Arnold?" She whispered quietly. "Is that you my love? My angel come to visit me in this the hour of my death." His eyes went wide. She was obviously delirious.

"Helga?" He whispered.

"Speak quickly dearest, for I fear I do not have much time."

"Helga, you're not dying. You're just sick."

"Darling, you need not tell such falsities to comfort me, I have accepted my fate."

"Mom!" He shouted over his shoulder. He turned and started walking back toward the kitchen.

"Oh but it is a cruel hand the Gods have dealt me." His mother came running into the room.

"What's wrong?" With wide eyes he pointed over to the couch. She knelt down at Helga's side and placed a hand of her forehead.

"Here she is, the angel of death come to deliver my soul to the heavens." With a heavy sigh his mom turned to him.

"Go get my thermometer, it's on the counter, and an ice pack from the freezer." He quickly followed her instructions and stood by her side as she took Helga's temperature. She shook her head and placed the cold compress on the sick girl's head.

"Even now the cold hands of death tear at my mind!"

"Mom?" He had a hard time controlling his voice.

"It's just a fever honey. She probably has the flu."

"But she's–"

"A little loopy right now. I told you she just needs to rest. If you're that worried then why don't you sit with her until she falls asleep again."

"What if I get sick?"

"Oh, I have no doubt that you already are."

"What? I feel fine." She shrugged.

"We'll definitely know tomorrow if you've been able to fight it off or not." She nodded toward the couch. He sat down by Helga's head and leaned over.

"Arnold?" She asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry." She said as her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm sorry too Helga. I really didn't mean it." She offered him the tiniest smile as she reached up and took his hand. "Stay with me?"

As she placed his hand against her cheek and closed her eyes he remembered his mother's words. _Just love her. You're good at that. _He sighed heavily and stared at the frustrating and unpredictable girl lying next to him. Something told him he was in for a long bumpy ride.

"I'll stay with you." He told her as he gave her hand a slight squeeze.

"Good." She tossed the pillow she was lying on off the couch, curled up on her side and placed her head in Arnold's lap.


End file.
